Crimson Paint or Faded Kohl
by Wombatron
Summary: Clarke has finally found her place on Earth with the Boat people. Joined by her fiancee Bellamy of course, but stirrings from Clarkes months alone in the forest and her history with Lexa finally seem to be catching up, just in time to ruin the happy ceremony they call marriage... Bellarke to start, ending Clexa.Gorey bits and some sexy bits. Request filler. Multi-chap hopefully.


_**New story, might be a bit hard to follow but bear with, I will elaborate on any confusions hopefully later. But in this universe Bellamy left in search for Clarke but ended up in the Boat People's village (the same boat people mentioned by Lincoln in the series), as expected they live by the sea but sort of inland a little.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy, usual disclaimer (I don't own anything but the fic), any mistakes are my own, no flames please.**_

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" _It takes a smart person to outwit authority, but it takes a wise person to stop before the breaking point"_

* * *

The moon shone through the glistening leaves, casting shadows of those who had fallen, those who haunted Clarke's broken mind.

Broken…

Ha!

How can a soft bundle of tissue, dwelling inside of a barely 18 year old child's body be fractured?

An organ can be punctured, bruised, swollen and/or bleed… By now the Sky princess had seen it all… But you cannot break such a wonderful instrument, not physically anyways.

She'd left Camp Jaha in hopes of steering the pain and death away from her mother and friends, they'd suffered enough, she deserved this burden of lives upon her shoulders…

Although maybe not as much as a certain brunette Grounder…

 _Natrona*_

The hard footfalls and snapping twigs of a non-native made the blonde stick out as easy pickings to the predatory world. She could practically smell the malicious grins of radiated Earthen creatures, so unlike the soft, gentle animals shown in the Arcs textbooks.

But the princess didn't define herself as prey, a food source for a species of greater strength or hierarchical rank to devour…

No.

She was an African poison dart frog, seemingly innocent and colourful, susceptible to razor sharp claws and teeth...

But if a predator attempted to consume a dart frog?

They'd be dead within minutes, the toxins leaking into bloodstreams, infecting capillaries, veins, arteries and lastly the essential heart…

Dead predator.

She would get Lexa back for what she did, for the decisions she forced upon this 'princess'.

She would no longer be somebodies pawn

She was the commander…

Grinning maliciously, the blonde raised her crudely crafted steel dagger in the air, facing the animalian humans, the reapers, with her arms open, feet set in the drenched earth, eyes piercing the darkness.

The group slipped through the plants, growling obscenely, flexing filthy muscles, brandishing fists and swords alike, challenging this youngling, testing her worth.

Clarke tightened her grip on her small blade in anticipation, slowly releasing her pent up breath, watching it curl into clouds of steam, the wind stealing the moisture away…

She sprung forward.

The healer hit them hard, stabbing and slashing at the hulking rabid warriors with surprising accuracy, allowing the blood to splash against her person, wearing the gore as an especially vibrant war paint…

The next few minutes were filled with cries from her enemies and the thud of detached limbs meeting the forest floor, leaking crimson for the crazed predators to sense their inevitable endings.

The last of the group approached with caution, holding a thick slightly deformed branch at its side, whimpering in anger and fear, going from 20-1 to one on one was a big difference and frankly between fight or flight?

Flight seemed like the easier option.

The smaller caramel skinned warrior twitched his head toward the artist then towards the freedom behind him, drug infected mind unable to make a decision.

Looking back once more, for longer this time, the man turned, ready to run when a thick fierce burn spread its way through his chest, threatening to consume him in its scalding flame. Slowly rolling his head to look down, the doomed Grounder caught a glimpse of shimmering sliver protruding from his left pectoral, the heated blade dripping with the essence of his fellow addicts.

The last sound that graced his ears was a gentle twinkling giggle…

* * *

Clarke wondered down the bustling mass of men and women, watching them each navigate their own paths through the crowd of excited wedding planners.

Some came with food, others with cloth and even beautifully crafted pearl jewellery, each of these precious gifts carried by smiling villagers and proud parents.

Even the children joined in the festivities; cheekily looping in between their neighbour's legs, trying to reach one another in a strange game that involved tapping each other's back, followed by a quick scampering of bare feet to escape...

" _Tag?"_ She asked herself.

The healer couldn't help but compare the bright culturally rich image to the small Trikru's battle hardened villages, how polar opposite they were.

The grim faces marked with Kohl and tattoos replaced by fresh faces and smiles that put the suns radiance up for debate.

Days of scars and bleeding noses replaced with dashes of red upon canvases for sale in Polis.

The Boat people weren't all play without work… but they had learned to balance the hardship of Earths rough conditions.

Through her fog of thoughts the artist heard a holler filter towards her, making its way through the buzz of many voices overlapping each other.

"Sky Princess?"

The ex-wanderer looked around, trying to find the source of the calling, it was hard to follow in the middle of rush hour town square.

"Clarke!"

The blonde looked over her shoulder to find a tall, stocky man walking towards her chuckling, arms outstretched for a hug, like they were old friends, in a way they were…

"Commander? Is that yo... "

"Sky Princess! It's an honour to finally meet the one who has captured my apprentice's heart!" The leader of the Boat people bellowed, a cheerfully fat man with long ginger braids falling down his armour covered back, the fair hair shining in the early morning sun.

 _Oof_

Before the smaller leader could react, the Commander was embracing the blonde with gusto, waving his practical son, Bellamy, over from behind him to join in the moment.

"Roberto! Be nice now, I know she's tough, but even I can't breathe through your bear hugs" the boy scolded his mentor, laughing at the old warriors antics.

Once the artist got over her shock at the sudden welcome she settled into the man's father like hug, taking in the comfort, something she rarely experienced nowadays.

The elder released the happily squashed girl after a long second, holding her out at arm's length, looking her over with an approving eye, happy with his adopted sons choice of eternal partner.

"You will make a fine Floukru Queen one day Clarke of the Sky People" Roberto stated with a wistful sigh, drawing the blonde back in for a brief hug once more before letting her go completely, the girl automatically gravitating to her husband-to-be's side, clasping his warm slightly calloused hand, letting the flesh to encompass hers.

"Come now! You must meet my wife Luna!" The surprisingly spritely man exclaimed before making off with haste, navigating his way across the village square, calling out to his wife, hidden from sight in the crowd.

* * *

"Its bad luck to see your bride on the day of marriage you know" the smaller leader informed the tall brunette, bumping shoulders with him as they started to follow the bouncing man, being slowed down by the extra human traffic.

"That's an old suspicion princess and you know it" Bellamy chuckled, squeezing the small pale hand in his, letting them both know that the silly suspicion wouldn't keep him away from his fiancée.

A troop of warriors marched through the square suddenly, coming in from the west, each soldier dressed in armour concealed by tan coverings, hoods drawn to hide any identification. They seemed to push any locals out of their path simply by moving near by, rendering the crowd practically frozen in place.

"The Sand People… I didn't think any of the tribes would be attending? Well… Other than our friends from the Arc?" Clarke whispered tensely, worrying about bumping into a certain someone.

"All tribes were invited princess, even the Trigeda…"

The healer started to panic, pushing away from her friend and lover only to be held back by numerous gaping villagers, each unable to keep their eyes off the eerily silent pale soldiers.

Lashing out, the blonde started running blindly forward, pushing people out of her way, trying to get out of the square the long way out… Toward to the Tan Warriors…

 _No no no no no no I don't want to see her again!_

In her haste the girl shoulder barged the leading warrior onto his front, shaming him in front of the local villagers, breaking the mirage of mystery.

His soldiers reacted instantly, taking the artist by her shoulders and throwing her to the pebbled ground, cracking her head hard…

The impact sent the broken mind into the front cavity of her cranium…

After a brief period of blankness the girl found herself being held back by a pair of soft armour covered arms, the soldier who had thrown her holding his face, droplets of blood escaping his clasped hand.

The man was then grasped by the dropped hood and held by the new Floukru army commander Lincoln and normal but still scary Indra, each holding a sword to an exposed artery, awaiting instructions from the person holding Clarke back from apparently hurting this idiot again…

The bride to be looked down at arms encircling her waist, observing the gaps showing off a familiar Commander tattoo the blonde hoped to never see again…

"We meet again Clarke"

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 _Natrona=Traitor_

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 _ **Dum dum daaaa**_

 _ **Haha so as requested, a 'The 100' fic, with Bellark to start with.**_

 _ **Hope you guys enjoyed, review and follow, they make my day honestly**_

 _ **Shall try and post new chapter soon**_

 _ **~Wombatron**_


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